(An unknown holding cell, The Twelfth Elder's POV)
*Groan*
The Twelfth Elder groaned as he regained his consciousness, his head feeling heavy as if it were weighed down by molten iron.
His eyelids flickered open, and the first thing he saw was the single bulb swaying above him, its dim light carving long shadows across the damp stone walls of the holding cell.
*Drip*
*Drip*
Water dripped steadily from the ceiling, each drop echoing sharply in the suffocating silence, as it was only then that he realized that he could not move.
Thick ropes bound him to a steel chair, cutting into his wrists and ankles, the cold bite of the metal frame digging into his back.
*Pull* *Rattle*
He tugged once, twice, but the knots refused to give, and the sound of his own restraints rattling only sharpened the sense of confinement.
He lifted his head, scanning the cell.
